


An Alpha Champion and Omega Prize

by DeadDoveDiner



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, Extremely Underage, Geralt is very immoral and unhinged, Geralt shouldn't be allowed around children, Jaskier is 10, Jaskiers father is a POS, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rimming, Sexual Coercion, Sexual Slavery, Somnophilia, mentions of fisting, use of pheromones as a drug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadDoveDiner/pseuds/DeadDoveDiner
Summary: It was novelty that lead him to agree to the prize- almost a century of monster hunting and he'd not once had an Omega, snooty and uptight as they tended to be- but he was definitely starting to warm to the idea of it as more than that now. Spending a week in luxury and eating like a king (or Viscount, as the case was) wasn't too bad, either, especially if one added the fact that he'd also be fucking a baby Omega through their first heat.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 58
Kudos: 246





	1. A Prized Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE TAGS. JASKIER IS TEN IN THIS. HE CRIES.  
> DO NOT READ THIS IF THIS UPSETS YOU.

The boy before him is a waif- small and breakable, dressed in all his virgin finery like he's to meet with a king and not as if he's being sacrificed to the monstrous Witcher like a lamb to slaughter.

Geralt isn't entirely sure whether he's amused or saddened by that.

A better man would be disgusted, he thinks, at the very thought of being paid with free use of child just barely in double digits, but Geralt isn't a man and never had it been said that Witchers were any different to that of the monsters they hunted. Witchers took contracts, hunted, killed, and got paid. That was it. They took their coin and they got out, and if someone couldn't pay, they were reimbursed in other ways.

The Law of Surprise was the old favourite- enough Witchers claiming it through the years and being rewarded with young boys to take back to their schools and train into the next generation of monsters. How was what he was doing much different, he wondered, eyeing the boy. Even from across the large room, he could smell the pup. Scent still fresh and sweet with youth, but with the undercut of something darker- something _fertile_ that made the Alpha in Geralt _want_.

If anyone had told him this morning that he would be ending the day in the guest wing of the Viscount of Lettenhove's manor as his personal guest and Alpha Champion, well...Geralt probably would have laughed harder than he had since before he was dropped at the Kaer Morhen as his own Child Surprise fulfilment. And though laugh as he might, it wouldn't have made it any less true. So here he sat, reclining in a finely made tub while sipping Est Est, a plate of meats, cheeses, and fruits on a table at his side, and his prize standing timid by the door.

And oh, what a prize he was.

Smaller than what Geralt remembered the boys at Kaer Morhen were at ten year olds and far more delicate than a boy had any right to be. Skin as pale as parchment and seeming just as fragile, like he spent most of his time indoors away from the harsh sun, and with a finely combed mop of brown hair that fell across his forehead in a soft caress. Dainty hands twisted in the soft white doublet he wore, stitched tight to his frame but with the tiniest amount of golden flare off his delicate waist to give the illusion of hips. Tiny golden flowers had been embroidered along its edges, growing up the centre and across the collar to match the gold flare that spewed out the edge of the cuffs and almost covered to the tips of his thin fingers. Short puffed trousers, white and gold the same, and striking golden hose. Even his little shiny white-leather shoes had golden embellishments stitched into them.

Normally such a display would have made Geralt sneer at the utter ponce and pamper, but this little Omega was a _vision-_ gorgeous and so small that Geralt was sure he could wrap both hands around his waist and lace his fingers together at his spine.

It was novelty that lead him to agree to the prize- almost a century of monster hunting and he'd not _once_ had an Omega, snooty and uptight as they tended to be- but he was definitely starting to warm to the idea of it as more than that now. Spending a week in luxury and eating like a king (or Viscount, as the case was) wasn't too bad, either, especially if one added the fact that he'd also be fucking a baby Omega through their first heat. Most certainly a once in a lifetime opportunity, and Geralt hadn't been about to give that up for meagre coin which he'd probably spend on a night between the legs of a mediocre whore anyway.

It had been offered to him on a silver platter, and who was he to decline such an appealing offer?

Geralt reaches for a grape, pops it in his mouth as he stares the boy down from his spot in front of the roaring hearth. The water is the perfect temperature to sooth the ache in muscles where one of the Alghouls had tossed him into a tree earlier, and he'd managed to get to it before the servants had added any stinking salts or oils, so his nose was free to catch all the tiny shifts the boys scent as he stood by the door.

Confusion, unease. Curiosity.

“Do you know why you're here, boy?”

 _Fear._ A weak shiver wracks the child’s frame as blue eyes so wide with terror dart up to meet his for barely a second before nervously looking away again.

He nods.

“P-Papa says you're my champion.”

Geralt would rather argue that the boy is his prize, but he lets the child have his fantasy.

“Do you know what that means?”

“You-You're to help me th-through my.. heat,” the boy manages, twisting his hands and avoiding meeting Geralt's eye again. He's used to it what with being a Witcher and all, but he can't help but feel a little disappointed that the pup won't look at him- he has the most mesmerising blue eyes Geralt's ever seen. Bright and precious like sapphires in the candlelight.

“That all?”

“I'm- Mama says to l-listen to you an' do as you say 'cause you're an.. an _Alpha_ ,” he mumbles, “an' Papa says to be good an' serve you 'cause you're a Witcher an' you'll burn the manor if I- if I'm bad.”

Geralt allows himself a lazy snort, dropping his head to rest against the lip of the tub as he slouches further into the warm water. He wouldn't burn the manor, but he'd sure as shit rob the place if his prize was rescinded but he figures both actions would be much the same to a man as concerned about wealth and material goods as the Viscount seemed to be.

“Your parents ever send you to _serve_ anyone before?”

“N-no,”

Surprising and yet, at the same time not. Omegas were rare and revered like gods in some places, given anything and everything they could ever want for or need, but this one had been offered to him so easily. His details of the contract weren't solid, but from what he gathered from the dying Knight's instructions and his short conversation with the Viscount earlier, the Omega had been put up as a prize to anyone that rid the Viscount of a pack of ghouls on his land and brought him the chest they'd dragged into their nest.

That either meant the man was a moron and didn't understand how uncommon and coveted Omega's were, or that chest they'd been guarding meant more to him than the boy did.

He wonders briefly if he should have just taken the chest and run, not bothered following the dying knights instruction to bring it to the Lettenhove manor. Auctioning off a chest full of land deeds could have brought in quite the coin, though knowing Geralt's luck the chest had probably contained letters of an affair or some sort of sentimental heirloom worth no more than materials it was made from.

No, he was content with his choice.

“Come here,”

The pup hesitates. Fear, again- stronger this time, turning the boys scent sour with it. He looks ready to turn tail and run, feet shuffling on the tiled floor, gaze darting to the closed door behind him. Would the guards at the door bring him back if he were to do so, Geralt wonders. Or would he be expected to go get the child himself?

The thought of leaving the warm embrace of the bath is a cruel one, but his inner Alpha rumbles and delights at the notion of hunting the boy like prey, catching him and breeding him out in the open with no care of who watches.

Geralt's muscles prime him to jump and chase the second the boy makes move to run, but to his credit, and Geralt's slight disappointment, he doesn't. He does as Geralt ordered him once he's gained the courage to move, coming to a stop a foot or so from the tub as if he thinks himself safer there.

Geralt raises a brow, and nods to his side.

It takes even longer this time, but eventually he makes his way to the place Geralt gestured, nervous and pale and lit by the warm light of the hearth.

Up close he's even more breathtaking.

His skin, clear and smooth like porcelain, is completely free of any blemish, no pox scar or pimple to be seen across its perfect surface. The lightest dusting of freckles graced the child's nose and cheeks, his eyelashes so thick and dark whore's would envy them.

Everything about the boy delighted him. His nervousness, the way his gaze flitted around the room, darting between the candles braced on the walls, to the swords laid out on the table by the corner, to the huge four poster bed against the far wall. He never stopped on something for longer than a few seconds before looking away, and never once did he look at Geralt himself.

On anyone else, such jitters would have been annoying or borderline suspicious, but all it did on this boy was make Geralt even more enthralled. Such innocence wasn't something Geralt got to see very often, and the thought of taking the boy, knowing he'd be the first person to touch him, to kiss him and push inside his unsullied cunt- to _take_ that innocence.

It was _thrilling_.

His cock had been a steady weight against his thigh since the boy had first been escorted into the chamber, filling slow and steady as he took him in, but now it twitched and hardened solid. Gods, he wanted to do _everything_ to the pup- to sooth him, calm him. Wanted to teach him how to please an Alpha right with his soft little hands and sweet mouth and train him how to spread his legs and take it like he's supposed to. He wanted to _suck_ and _bite_ at his little tits and lips until they were red and sore and they boy _cried_ for him to stop.

Gods above, he wanted to _ruin_ him.

“What's your name, boy?” he rasps.

Hesitation- a long stretch of silence where all Geralt could hear was the crackle of the fire and the _boom boom_ _ **boom**_ of the boys poor frantic heart.

“J-Julian,” he answers eventually, whisper soft.

“ _Julian_ ,” Geralt echoes, tasting the name on his tongue. Julian; downy, _youthful_. Such a fitting name for such a sweet, soft boy.

He reaches a hand out almost without thought, tracing a wet trail across the boys cheek with his thumb, fighting back a grin when he flinches minutely, “You may call me Geralt,” he informs him, just as soft, “Or _Alpha_ , if you prefer.”

The boy trembles in response. Geralt hums, grips the boys jaw to face to him.

“Do you understand, Julian?”

Julian nods weakly.

“Use your words, pup.”

“Y-yes, Alpha.”

“Good,” Geralt praises, softening his hold but not letting go completely. The pups skin is _so_ soft and he likes the way it feels under his callouses as he strokes it. He wonders if it hurts- like rubbing sandpaper across too delicate flesh- and if it does, how will the boy handle the raw scrape of Geralt's stubble on his cunt?

Will he cry, he wonders, or beg him to stop when it becomes too much? How hard will he sob when Geralt ignores him, when he redoubles his efforts in response to his pleading and rubs the boy red and ruddy.

He hopes he does.

Allowing himself one last moment to take in the picture the boy makes in all his pretty finery, he orders: “ _Strip._ ”

The tears that had been threatening since his arrival finally fall, and Geralt wipes them away tenderly.

“Don't cry, Julian.” he croons softly, “I'm here to help you, remember? I'm your _Alpha Champion_.”

“I'-I'm _scared_ ,” the boy sobs.

“Its okay to be scared,” Geralt assures him, stroking adoringly at wet cheeks to calm him. He has to sit up and bring his other hand up to tug the boys hands from his face when he tries to cover it, pulling them away so Geralt can see his pretty flushed cheeks streaked with tears. “New things can be frightening and make you nervous, but that can't stop you from going out and doing them, can it? You wouldn't stop climbing trees because you fear the fall, would you? Or stop stealing sweet cakes from the kitchen because the cooks might see you? You don't need to fear me, Julian. I'm here to help you, not hurt you.”

But he will. He's going to hurt the pup _so_ _good. Show_ him just how nice a little pain can be.

The boy sniffles, nods, little fingers getting as far as to fiddle with his buttons after some more gentle prompting before Geralt gets impatient and slides a hand down to do it himself.

His fingers look perverse in comparison to the tiny jewelled fixings as he helps strip the boy of his doublet, making sure to be extra careful not to tear stitching as he pulls it from the pups shoulders and drapes it over the upturned bucket next to the tub. Being too eager now would only scare the boy more than he already is, and that was the last thing Geralt wanted. Who knew just how many guards were listening or peaking through the cracks, waiting and set to tear his prize from his fingers and throw him out without compensation? He could count at least three heartbeats other than his own and the pups before him, all close enough that they could no doubt hear into the chamber if they strained.

They were listening, and Geralt was going to do his utmost to make sure they only heard what they wanted to hear. He needed to put the boy at ease enough for the guards to relax and, hopefully, leave them be. A fools dream, but nice one nonetheless.

Julian starts to cry again when Geralt tugs the ties of his trousers and hose, silent little sniffles as his hands form shaking fists at his sides and the cloth falls to puddle at his feet. Not once does the boy verbally tell him to stop though, and so he doesn't, and in mere minutes he has the pup stripped naked before him- completely bare except for his little shoes and the finely woven gold gorget at his throat that Geralt hadn't noticed before.

The sight of it almost made him laugh.

The utter stupidity of nobles never ceased to amaze him. They wanted everything to be shiny and perfect and show off just how rich they were that they completely overlooked or even downright _ignored_ the impracticality of things. A golden collar would hardly stop a _human_ Alpha, let alone a _Witcher._ Geralt could snap those clasps and have his teeth in the boys neck with barely more than a flick of his fingers if he so wished.

And maybe he would. If the boy is good for him and does as his told, maybe Geralt will keep him. Not even kings could challenge an Alpha's claim on their Omega. They were bonded for life. If they were separated, the Omega would go into a perpetual heat and waste away. If they killed the Alpha, the Omega would perish along with them.

Geralt could claim the boy and simply walk out with him, and no one could stop him. He could take the boy on the path and lose himself inside his tight bitch hole whenever he pleased- could sit the pup in Roach's saddle with him and force him on his knot as they rode between towns, ringing orgasm after orgasm out of him until Geralt finally fucked him right and creamed his pussy full. Maybe he could even find a Mage to make a potion to get his little tits to fill in and leak for him. _Gods_ , Geralt could only _imagine_ how fucking sweet his milk would be, and he'd be able to sup himself on it for as long as he pleased so long as he kept the boy healthy.

He eyes the gorget for a moment longer, contemplating it, before brushing it off for the moment. He had time to think about it more later- the boy would be in heat for at least a week and so long as everything went to plan, Geralt would be spending that week by his side. If, by the end of it, Geralt still wanted him, he'd take him. Simple as that.

Dismissing the collar temporarily, Geralt finally turns his attention on his prize and drinks him in. And _bless the Gods-_ if he thought the boy was breathtaking before, there were no words to describe him now. His chest, stomach, and legs were all as creamy white and blemish free as his face, tiny tits pink and puffy. His groin completely smooth and hairless around his little cocklet. Geralt can't help the pleased rumble that builds in his chest. It was barely half the size of his pinky in length and perhaps about the same as in width, still soft but unlikely to get much bigger with arousal. He knew enough from medical books to know Omega cocks never matured much past that, growth halting at sign of their first heat and staying small and penetratively useless. Not that it mattered, of course- It was basically a glorified clit anyway.

“Come here,”

More hesitation. Water sloshes over the edge of the tub as Geralt finally sits up and reaches over with both hands to hoist the boy off his feet. Julian startles at the move, hands scrambling at his grip and feet kicking, a distressed little yelp escaping his lips before Geralt shushes him. He holds the boy in one arm as he helps to flick his shoes off and tug this hose off his feet the rest of the way, before lowering him into water.

“ _W-wait!_ ” he cries, fighting, “ _Please_ , I don't-!”

“Hush, Julian,” he says, arranging the boy's flailing limbs into his lap. When he's done, he has the pups minuscule weight resting on one arm and his teary face tucked right into his neck, hand on his head to keep his nose at the hinge of his jaw. “ _Relax_ ,” he rumbles, putting just a touch of Alpha into it to calm the thrashing. A pleased grumble vibrates through his chest when Julian settles, “ _Good boy_. Be calm, little Omega.”

By now, Julian would have been experiencing false heats. All Omegas did. Weak things that lasted an hour or so at most and did little more than make them uncomfortable and irritable. If left to progress naturally, they'd go into a real heat sometime between the ages of twelve and fourteen, and would get themselves through it alone or, depending on status and how much coin they had to spare, with the help of eunuch. It was almost unheard of to breed an Omega's through their first heat unless they were married, though it was less rare for them to be induced and taken by force. Find the right plant or a Mage with little morality and it could be done, but the quickest and easiest way was to get them relaxed and huffing the pheromones of an overly virile Alpha. Give it an hour or so and the heat would kick off with a _vengeance_.

“Good boy,” he murmurs again, running his fingers though soft brown tresses. The Omega's quiet mumbling trails off and finally the boy relaxes into him completely, face against his throat, hands going limp where they'd been clawing bloody at his chest.

Geralt won't lie. He's been offered nights with children before as payment and he'd taken them- less money spent on whores was more money in his pocket- but he'd only ever been offered daughters and never had any of them been so young. The youngest, perhaps, was thirteen- a petite little redhead that had only just started to fill in at her tits and had to be hit with Axii twice before Geralt had been able to get off.

The point was, while he wouldn't say he's especially attracted to children, there was definitely something undeniably thrilling about how the pups tiny form fits against his own comparatively grotesque one. So small and fragile, where Geralt is large and strong. Skin soft and flawless, where Geralt's is tough and scarred. Julian- frightened, innocent. Geralt- confident, corrupt.

They're perfect opposites and Julian fits so perfectly curled in his lap that Geralt can't help but hum, pleased, as he reaches for his glass of Est Est and relaxes back into the tub, content to sit and wait for heat to hit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it only gets worse from here..


	2. Sweet Rewards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His cock is rock hard and slaps against his thigh as he places the boy down. Then, not wishing to be overheard or interrupted, he signs a quick Quen at the door.  
> He has plans and both his cock and everything else can wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEED THE WARNINGS AND DEAD DOVE TAG

Heats were curious things.

Ruts too, Geralt supposed, but he'd only ever gone through one of those before the mutagens locked them down completely. Alphas were already violent creatures- quick to anger and quicker still to strike, and ruts brought that out to an even worse extent, only instead of anger and fighting, it was arousal and fucking.

Although, don't get him wrong, the rage was still there. Only instead of using their fists to do their part, they used their cocks- fucking the aggression out into whatever poor hole they'd found themselves in. Male, Female. Beta, Omega- even other Alphas if they weren't strong enough to fight them off.

Hell, sometimes they spent their rut with an animal, if that's all they could catch.

Geralt spent his with one of the beta girls that the older Witchers kept around for that very purpose- a child surprise unable to become a Witcher herself, but still able to do her part to keep the school running and the continent a little safer.

Witchers were lucky in that sense, he supposed. The girls too, if you asked him- or at least luckier than the boys, in any case.

They came to Kaer Morhen as children, worked the kitchens and gardens and kept the keep clean while the boys were trained, tortured and killed. When they reached puberty, they had the added role of comforting the newly minted Alphas through their first and only rut. Or, if one of the older Witchers took a shining to them, as their personal lover.

It was a good life. They were fed and clothed and taught to read and write and make potions the same as the boys. The older girls raised the children that came in as their own, and gave them what little comfort the older Witchers would allow.

It was better than starving to death in some shit-hole village or being murdered by bandits or monsters or whatever else would befall them. There was also no chance of them being married off and used as broodmares, only to subsequently die in childbirth.

Geralt didn't remember the girl he spent his rut with- what she looked like or her name, if he'd ever even known it in the first place. Just vague flashes of sensation when he thought back on it- the smell of sex and teenage Alpha pheromones, the bite of the shackles around his wrists, the weight of the muzzle on his jaw that kept his teeth away from her throat.

He'd had better since then, but none had been able to erase the phantom memory of her cunt around his cock or the feeling of relief he felt when she finally fucked herself down onto him and rode him through the rut.

They'd learned their lesson about the muzzle and shackles after one too many girls bled out in the midst of their duty.

Geralt had hated them, but they did their duty, and the girl survived to undoubtedly go on and comfort more teenage Witchers.

  
  


So, no, the added hostility wasn't shocking, was his point. Alphas were aggressive by nature and it made sense that they would only get more so during rut.

 _Omega's_ , though. Such sensible and prudent little people, always so formal and shrewd- the fact that Heats turned them into dripping, begging holes, gagging for cock was like a cosmic joke on them. The perfect slight- to be turned into everything they tried so hard not to be seen as.

And as Julian's heat grew closer to the surface, Geralt wonders if he would be the same.

The pup's been docile and quiet for the better part of an hour at this point, little breaths puffing at Geralt's neck as the Omega scents him, clutching at his medallion like a lifeline. But that rich perfume that had been teasing at the edges of the boy scent before had grown and thickened into something warm and inviting, curling off his heated skin like the most tantalising of teases.

Geralt wants to _taste_ it. Sitting is silent torture with the boy so close, curled up in his lap like the most perfect little pet and smelling like sin and want.

The water had gone a little cold again since the last time he'd hit it with a burst of Igni, but Geralt doesn't bother to reheat it again. The boy's so close to heat now that it would be a waste when he's only going to take him to bed soon anyway.

And- just as he thinks that, Julian gives a faint mewl, his hand tugging so weakly at Geralt medallion and hips shifting just so and Geralt knows.

 _It's time_.

He'd been petting the boy softly since his scent had first started to ripen, running his hand up and down his small flank as he rumbled deep in his chest to sooth him. Now, he starts to lengthen the run, trailing his fingers lower with each stroke- over his hip, down the outside of his thigh.

Julian makes no move to wake, breath soft and easy, body lax. He doesn't even twitch when Geralt runs his hand over the swell of the pups arse and then, curious how far he could go, between his cheeks.

It's just a dip. The tiniest slide of the tip of his finger into the crevice, while he watches for reaction. He does it again when there's none. Sooths his hand up the boys flank, then back down, over his hip to his arse, slips his finger between his cheeks deeper until the very tip of his middle finger just barely kisses his little cunt for the first time.

And this- _this_ gets a reaction.

He's much too pheromone drunk to do much, but Julian whimpers and _shifts back_ on the touch. Geralt watches with rapt attention as his little hips writhe and he whines weakly until Geralt gives him what he wants and presses just that touch deeper.

His cock jerks against his thigh, a shudder running through him.

The pups hole is absurdly small against his gentle rubbing. Small and _so_ _tight,_ and Geralt can't fucking _wait_ to ruin it on his cock. 

Julian's mouth is too small to kiss properly, but that doesn't stop him from shifting the boys face up so he can suck at his slack lips as he rubs his hole. Its not exactly a kiss, but Julian's mouth twitches against his like he's trying to respond but unable to get past the heat haze. He doesn't startle when Geralt brings his teeth into play, nipping at his lips until they're puffy, then soothing them with his tongue. He even presses his own tongue back against Geralt's when he dares to slide it inside the first time, mimicking weakly as Geralt licks into him. 

Geralt hums, allows the boy to suckle on his tongue while he touches him. The water dilutes the boys slick into uselessness, but he's so relaxed that it doesn't take much for Geralt to wriggle the tip of his finger inside, and it's only once he does that that Julian clenches and pulls away.

A string of saliva connects the two for a second before it falls as Julian lets out a truly pathetic whimper.

Geralt shushes him, cupping his face as he wiggles the finger deeper, to the second knuckle. “It's okay,” he murmurs, pressing a few kisses to the boys slack mouth, “Doesn't it feel good?”

“ _Mmnn,”_

Even being as drunk as the boy is, he still makes the sweetest noises when Geralt begins to move his finger, tugging gently at his rim and searching for that spot inside. He knows when he finds it, because Julian makes a sound like none other before it and clamps down on him. His little hips jerk, pushing him back on Geralt's finger harder than before which in turn makes him cry out again.

“See?” Geralt says, rubbing at the spot until the boy writhes in his lap, “It feels so good, doesn't it? Like it was always meant to be there. Imagine how good it will be when its my cock in you- my _knot_ fucking against your spot so good. Won't that feel so good, boy? Its so much thicker, it'll fill you _just_ _right.”_

He's never knotted anyone before, not really. He'd been barely older than Julian is now when he'd gone through his rut, and his knot was too small to lock inside the seasoned helper who had seen him through it, and Alphas didn't knot with betas or other Alphas any other time- only during rut or with an Omega.

Something to do with bodies reaction to pheromones or something, he wasn't entirely sure, but he marks his promise with a harsh press down.

He's not entirely sure how long they spend like that- with a single one of his fingers thrusting into the boy and filthy promises whispered against lax lips. The water is well and truly cold by the time Julian's little clit jerks against Geralt's stomach and he shudders through an orgasm.

Geralt sooths him through what he's pretty sure is the pups first climax ever, stroking flush cheeks and murmuring soft words until the boy's trembling stills.

Most of the guards outside the door had left sometime during the time Julian's heat had been brewing, probably deciding that the lack of screaming meant the boy would be safe. A foolish decision, really, but one that worked in Geralt's favour as he pulled the boy from the tub and made his way over to the huge four poster bed at the far wall.

His cock is rock hard and slaps against his thigh as he places the boy down. Then, not wishing to be overheard or interrupted, he signs a quick Quen at the door.

He has _plans_ and both his cock and everything else can wait.

Positioning a pillow near the middle of the bed, he places Julian stomach down over it, shifting his legs open as he does so. The movement bares the pups hole to Geralt's hungry gaze, warmed red and weak from his earlier ministrations. Slick bubbles and drips as it twitches, winking and baring hints of his sweet pussy like a tease. The scent of his slick, like honey and vanilla, cloys up from its source, smelling as sweet and inviting as those cakes in Novigrad that Geralt loves so much. His neglected cock jerks again and he has to physically hold himself back from diving in tongue first to get a taste.

_Not yet._

With as small as the pup is, the pillow props his hips high off the mattress and into the perfect position for Geralt to slip in behind him. The feel of baby soft skin under his calloused palm is lewd as he cups a cheek to spread him wider so he can bring his fingers back to where they belong. He slips in easier this time, the rim giving and sucking a single digit in right down to the knuckle in a single press.

The sight of his thick, scared finger deep inside that tiny pussy is almost overwhelming- he wants nothing more than to just give in and see just how tight the boy spreads on his cock but Geralt isn't _cruel._ A move like that would do nothing but tear the boy and leave him too terrified to do anything else. A monster and pervert he may be, but he wasn't going to leave the boy bleeding more than he had to- he wanted Julian to _enjoy_ this.

He whimpers at the second finger but still opens for it beautifully, rim tight white. His slick is more than enough for Geralt's fingers and more, but he still spits on the boys hole, pushes the saliva in with short movements. The healing properties in it relax him, loosen him more until his fingers can fuck him in long, deep thrusts, pressing all the way in until his knuckles hit his rim.

He's perfect- presses back into the touch beautifully and opens so easily when Geralt slips in a third and then a fourth finger, and then suddenly half his hand is inside that tiny fuck hole and Geralt himself can't help but shudder along with him.

Alpha's knots are never small, and Geralt doubts that just because he's sterile his would be any different. Fisting the boy first would be a kindness to him, but it would also loosen him too much for his knot to catch, so he brushes off the thought.

Maybe after he's fucked him a few times and got in a few good ties, he'll get his fist in that tiny pussy, just to feel him clench around his wrist.

Julian starts to whimper more, little hips moving weakly as Geralt loosens him, fucks against his little prostate with the tips of his fingers- and when he cums its like a he's been shocked. His whole body tightens, jumps. Slick burbles from his cunt, coats Geralt's fingers and drips down his wrist as the boy cries out.

The bed dips as Geralt leans forward, holds himself above the shaking boy with his clean hand as he rumbles and noses at the side of his face. Julian responds weakly, leans into the touch and answers with a little whine.

“Open your mouth, boy,”

Julian is such a good boy and does as he's told without hesitation, and Geralt slide two slick wet fingers over his tongue.

“ _Mhn?_ ”

“Shh,” Geralt sooths him, presses a series of little kisses to his soft cheek and temple, “You're such a good boy, Julian. Suck them clean- don't you like the taste?”

Geralt bets he tastes fucking perfect. How could he not, when everything else about him is?

Julian makes another little noise, but its less confused and more accepting, and does as he's told. His tongue feels tiny and weak against Geralt's fingers, slipping over the tips and between them, teeth grazing his knuckles. He only gags a little when Geralt presses in deeper, fucks his mouth with the same fingers he used to fuck his little pussy.

Only once they're clean of slick and instead dripping with the Omega's saliva does he slip them out of the boys mouth and then, without hesitation, into his own. The other two fingers follow suite and the Alpha in Geralt growls and thrashes at the taste of his slick on his tongue.

He was right- he's fucking  _delicious._ Better than any whore or fling and so much better than those honey cakes in Novigrad. Fresh and sweet and gorgeous and if Geralt spent the rest of his life with nothing but that taste on his tongue he would consider himself blessed.

His shoulders press into Julian's thighs as he slides down between them, pushing them even wider as he settles. He doesn't even give the boy a chance to wonder what's happening before he's diving in tongue first, lapping and sucking and tasting him fresh from the source. Syrupy and cloying, his slick coats thick on Geralt's tongue as he licks from taint to tail-bone, and Geralt can't help the growl he lets out- thick and deep and rumbling in his chest and almost completely drowning out the high while from the boy under him.

He tastes even better than he smells and something in Geralt _snaps._

He works the boy over with fervour, tongue lapping through the mess that drips from his pussy, rubbing and slipping across his rim and fucking inside so easy after the work he did with his fingers just minutes earlier. He eats him out like a man starved- tongue and jaw working against him until he's a dripping mess of spit and slick.

Julian whines continuously, little hips humping back and forth like he can't decide if he wants more or if he wants it all to stop. Geralt actually has to grip him by the waist and pin him to keep him still when one over vigorous movement pulls him free.

Minutes- hell maybe even _hours_ pass like that- with Geralt restraining the boy and fucking him on his tongue, sucking down his sweet slick and rubbing soft cheeks raw with his stubble, and it doesn't take much at all to make the boy cum again. 

And again. 

And _**again**_ _._

Multiple orgasms are a blessing and curse, Geralt thinks as the boy sobs through the last climax and promptly passes out. He almost wants to continue eating his little cunt, but when on the next thrust of his tongue he scents a little spike of pain from the unconscious boy, he forces himself to pull away. 

Slick and spit drip from his chin, a trail of it down his throat and a wet patch on the mattress under him. 

Geralt doesn't even realise he's got a hand on his cock until he's cuming- orgasm hitting like a punch from a Golem; hard and deep, and leaving him winded and groaning. Tight fisted and punishing, he works himself over, sucking on his tongue just to keep the taste in his mouth.

He angles his cock so his cum hits the Omega's back and thighs, drips down to paint him in Geralt's scent. His claim covers him, slides thick down his pussy and then  _ inside _ when Geralt scoops some up with two fingers and pushes them in.

Julian barely reacts past a little whine and Geralt has to remind himself that he can't fuck the boy to climax on his fingers again- not until his little body has had a chance to recover.

Julian's little hole clenches weakly when he pulls away, slick and the tiniest dribble of white escaping before Geralt replaces his fingers with just the press of his thumb- it doesn't matter that he's sterile and can't breed the bitch. He wants- no, he  _ needs _ to keep his cum inside. It won't matter how much the boy gapes once he's knotted him, how much cum escapes then because there will still be so much left inside that there's no chance in hell anyone will be able to deny Geralt's claim on him. 

The Omega will smell like he bathed in Geralt's cum by weeks end.

  
  


His knot, barely a bump beneath his fingers at the moment, is tender and sensitive where Geralt's gripping it. He knows it'll get bigger when he's inside- will swell up good and strong and keep the boy tied for a good long while as he breeds him.

Geralt hums, blinks lazily, thumb pressed soft to the boy hole. 

His head feels...muzzy. 

A soft sort of calm has  overtaken him, left him content and almost happy and its so different from the rush of energy and need and  _** fuckbreedmate  ** _ from before. He feels like he could sleep for a century, eyes heavy and brain empty.

It's the pheromones, he knows. A kind of thing similar to an Omega Float- a kind of calm that takes them once they've been knotted to keep them from struggling and hurting themselves or the Alpha tied to them. Alpha's do the same during a tie, though not as deeply as Omega's do- calm and relaxed, but still able to defend their mate if anyone were to try and take advantage of the situation. 

The Alpha in Geralt rumbles a little at the thought, but he knows well enough that no one will dare try anything against him. He's a Witcher, and he's got the Viscounts little son close enough that he could rip out his pretty little throat if threatened. 

He _wouldn't._

The boy is far too pretty and soft for that. No- if threatened, Geralt would just bite the boy. Mate him then and there and dare the guards or anyone else to attempt to separate them. 

So long as he has the boy in his arms, he's safe.

  
  


It's with that thought in mind that he forces himself back to the head of the bed. Julian fits so perfectly in his arms as he pulls him to his chest, tucks thick arms around his tiny body and holds him close. The boy snuffles in his sleep, wriggles closer, tucks his nose into Geralt's neck, and falls still once more.

Geralt allows himself a satisfied little rumble.

There was no chance he was going to leave him there once the week was over.

The boy was perfect.

The boy was _his_.

And Geralt couldn't fucking wait until he made it official with his teeth in that flawless throat. 

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Four months Later*
> 
> I don't even have an excuse, I'm just sorry
> 
> Thank you Fishie for Beta!

**Author's Note:**

> it only gets worse from here..


End file.
